


Livin the 90s Dream

by ShewasXena, thylekshran



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M, also T'Poshi is canon in this but it's not major enough to be tagged, mentions of Ezri and Phlox as well but nothing I'm gonna tag them for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 09:36:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12838401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShewasXena/pseuds/ShewasXena, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thylekshran/pseuds/thylekshran
Summary: Tumblr user @qquark drew a picture of Shran as an art student in Seattle in the 90s, and me and ShewasXena took it from there. In this chapter, Shran meets the lead singer and bass player of grunge band The Pinkskins, Jonathan Archer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is by ShewasXena! Also, for some worldbuilding notes, this is an AU where Andorians landed on Earth in the 60s and Vulcans followed after. The Federation doesn't exist yet but they're in talks about some sort of alliance.

“I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar,” The Smiths cried over the speakers, “I am the son and heir of nothing in particular.”

Shran tapped his foot to the beat absentmindedly. In his head he was a million miles away and in a different universe entirely. A universe where an gallery accepted his work and gave him lots of money. That universe was Shrans favorite.

“Hey kid!” his bosses gruff voice yanked him into reality. “Are you even awake right now?”

Shran blinked, emerging from his daydream. “Yes I am, sir” he said through clenched teeth.

“Good!” his boss leaned in close, “You’re on thin ice as it is, andorian. I wouldn’t want to have to fire you.”

Shran rolled his eyes. “That would be a shame.”

“It would be,” his boss said, he poked a finger into Shrans chest. “If I see you slacking off again, there will be consequences, got it?”

Shran nodded, barely containing his inner rage. A stream of andorian curses came to mind but he kept those to himself. Humans could be real pricks sometimes. His boss returned to his office, though not without giving Shran the evil eye before he disappeared inside.

Shran relaxed when the office door shut. He worked better when the boss wasn’t hovering over his shoulder all the time.

It was late afternoon. The orange evening sun oozed through the bookstores barred windows into Shrans eyes. The store smelled like dust and paper with a hint of tobacco. Shran found the smell oddly comforting, even if it was always too hot in the old bookshop.The shop’s front door bell rang.

Shran looked up, squinting through the late afternoon sun. “Hello,” he said putting on a fake air of cheer.

“Hey how’s it going?” said the customer.

“Fine,” Shran said, “And yourself?” He could just barely see the figure walking towards him in the glare.

The figure finally took form, into the most beautiful human Shran had ever seen. He gasped, almost too loudly at the sight of the human. The human in question was a gaunt, young man with the a good humored smile and kind hazel eyes. Shran couldn’t help but stare at him in awe.

“I’m doing pretty well,” the human said approaching the counter. “Say, do you have any geography books do you?”

Shran tried to speak but found himself tongue tied. “I, uh, believe we do.” He stood and motioned the human to follow him.

The two wound through the labyrinth of books until Shran spotted the right section. “Here we go, geography. Are you, uh, looking for anything particular.” Shrans antennae perked up attentively.

“Yeah, something on the geography of Africa,” the human said. He turned and looked up at the shelf.

It was then Shran noticed the patch on the humans leather jacket. A dog drinking beer with the words ‘Pinkskin’ over the top. Shran’s eyes grew wide, Pinkskin was that band he’d heard so much about, was this one of the band members? He tried to remain calm. “So, are you a Pinkskin fan?”

“You could say that, I’m their bass player.”

“Oh?” Shran said, his suspicions confirmed. “Well, I’m a fan of your music.”

“Thank you, uh, what’s your name?”

Shran’s heart was pounding. He held out his hand. “Thy’lek, Thy’lek Shran, and you?”

The human took his hand.

Shran couldn’t help but notice how warm it was.

“Names Jonathan Archer, but you can just call me Archer.”

Shran gave a small smile. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”


	2. Nebula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shran copes with the anxiety of having a crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is by me!

For having such big ears, Ferengi sure had no taste in music, Shran chuckles to himself, as his boss shoots him a glare from across the store for the third time that day. The Pinkskin’s new album was out and he’d been playing it on repeat since he got into work, which was annoying the powers that be over there to no end. He closes his eyes and lets the bass set the rhythm of his heart. Almost subconsciously, he gently rubs his legs, imagining himself dancing with Archer, hands on his shoulders, the material of the leather pants he dug out of the closet standing in for how Archer’s jacket would feel under his hands. It’s cheesy, and he knows it, but his creative spirit has been prolific all week with images of the human’s smile striking him with inspiration like lightning.

Maybe he reads too much. He’s starting to think like he’s living in a romance novel.

The bell rings to signal the door opening. The boss starts chattering away to whoever it is. Shran tunes it out. He lets the music carry him out of himself, out of the store, out of the atmosphere to a nebula he saw on the trip to Earth when he first moved here. Andoria was gorgeous, but he left to find colors beyond the ice. The nebula was his good luck charm, the gently shimmering reds and purples guiding him to his new life.

He wonders what that light would look like reflected in Archer’s eyes.

“Shran,” the boss snaps at him, dropping a book loudly in front of him and startling him back to reality. Shran suspects that was on purpose. “This goes with returns.”

He looks down and his heart drops. It’s the book he helped Archer find. Anxiety racing, he peers around as inconspicuously as he can. No sign of him. What’s wrong with the book? He can’t believe he gave him unhelpful advice. So much for the fantasy.

Trying to slow his racing thoughts, he channels the calming voice of his neighbor, a medical student from Denobula who was kind enough to come over once a week and offer him bits of therapeutic advice while they played video games. Archer returning this book isn’t some grand gesture of his loathing for Shran. Breathe in for five seconds, through the nose. He can’t read Archer’s mind, and nothing he said indicated that he’d done anything wrong. Breathe out for seven seconds, through the mouth. Repeat.

He notices a placeholder sticking just slightly out of the book, and pulls it out, moving to throw it away. As he’s about to drop it, he sees the post-it stuck to the front.

decided i’d rather have your company than an A in geo this semester, hope you can make it or i’ve blown it for nothing -a

It’s tickets to Pinkskin’s show on Saturday night. He fist pumps excitedly, and the lights dance in those hazel eyes again.


	3. First Dates First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shran goes to one of Archer's concerts. The crowds and noise is worth the wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter by my dear friend

It was crowded; Shran hated crowds, the heat, the noise, everything. The crowd in the concert hall was particularly rowdy, though, Shran had expected this. The Pink Skins were notorious for their crazy fans and even wilder concerts.

Shran waited, nervous, at the back of the crowd until the lights dimmed and the band made it’s way on stage. The screams of the crowd grew particularly loud when Archer came on.

Shran couldn’t help but blush. Archer wore all leather, leather pants, jacket but he wore no shirt. The whole look was a lot for Shran to process and he suddenly felt underdressed in his sweater and jeans. 

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” Archer shouted into the microphone.

The audience roared.

Shran flinched at the noise. He had never been one for loud noises. In retrospect he should have thought of that before trying to date a guy in a grunge band but it was too late to go back now.

Archer pulled on his bass guitar and struck the chords. “I want to start us out with a little song I wrote yesterday for this cute guy I met,” Archer looked out over the crowd, “He’s here tonight and I would be a bad date if I didn’t show him a good time, right?”

The crowd cheered appropriately. Meanwhile Shran tried to contain his own horror at being mentioned on stage in front of several hundred people.

Archer started to play. It was a slower melody than Shran expected. In fact it was downright soothing. Shran decided if music could hug, this is what it would sound like. Archer didn’t sing, instead he strummed away on his bass with the utmost care, as if he were channeling his whole being into the song.

Tears welled up in Shrans eyes. There was something so intimate about the song. As if they were the only two in the room.

When the song was over the band went into some loud bangers that Shran even moshed to despite his total lack of skill. He crashed into a Klingon who nearly tackled him to the floor. But Shran managed to slip away before the Klingon ripped his antenna off. The concert ended sooner than he had expected but Archer had instructed him to come backstage after the show so he could meet the rest of the band. The backstage reeked of weed and beer but Shran didn’t mind so much.

Archer was reclined on a worn out couch with the rest of the band but when he spotted Shran he jumped up and hurried over to Shran. “Hey! How did you like the show?” He said, he threw his arm around Shran, leaning in close.

Shran could smell the beer on his breath. “It was good!” he said.

“Oh, I’m glad,” Archer said leading Shran over to the rest of the band. “This is the rest of the band, Hoshi, Trip, Malcolm and Travis.”

Shran received a series of tired waves and smiles. Shran gave them all a friendly nod. “Hello, wonderful performance tonight!”

“Thanks!” Hoshi said, “You must be the guy Archer has been talking about.”

Shrans face burned. He laughed, “I suppose so.”

“He worked on that song all night,” Trip said, “kept me up working on it.”

“Hey, hey, don’t pull the curtain back on me here!” Archer said smacking Trip across the shoulder. “I just wanted it to sound good, you know, unlike your playing?”

“Well now that just hurts,” Trip said.

Shran felt the need to participate in the conversation. “I-I really enjoyed the song by the way Archer,” he said.

Archer beamed. “I’m glad! I was worried it would be a little too slow but the crowd seemed into it too.”

The group carried on the conversation after that with such topics as concerts, beer and Star Wars. The whole time Shran couldn’t help but gawk at Archer. He was beautiful to Archer, like snow in the moonlight. He couldn’t help but be enchanted.

Eventually the band parted ways leaving Archer and Shran alone.

Archer dug his hands in his pockets. “I think i have ten bucks, that’s enough for two ice creams right?”

Shran smiled, “I think so.”

Archer grabbed him by the hand. “Let’s go then.”


	4. Sound and Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this installment, I skipped ahead maybe a month or so from First Dates First. Shran and Archer go stargazing on the beach, but there’s more beautiful things to look at than just the stars.
> 
> This is very cheesy and very gay. I hope you like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one by me

Shran curls his toes in the sand, lost in thought. He loves beaches, they’re so uniquely Earth. Andoria is all ice, and the Vulcan oceans are drying up. There must be other planets out there that support ecosystems like this, but they could never be this beautiful.

Staring across the Sound, night sky reflected on the waves, he tries to calm his nerves. Inviting a cute boy in a band to jump a fence and stargaze with you on a private neighborhood beach after hours is way outside his comfort zone. He’s been in a mild state of panic since he called Archer yesterday morning to propose the idea for their fifth (Shran can’t believe it, to be honest) date. They won’t get caught, since nobody really cares, but the idea still puts him on edge. Not to mention this idea is hardly cool enough for the face of a prominent local band. Not even the view is going to temper this anxiety.

The rattling of wire behind him draws his attention to Archer climbing the fence. He lands heavily on the sand. “Hey!” Shran moves to get up but Archer waves his hand and flops down next to him with a grin. “Sorry to keep you waiting!” Heat rushes to Shran’s face as Archer’s eyes make a quick, almost imperceptible sweep down his body. He knows he must be navy by the time their eyes meet. This is his favorite sweater, thin and dark green with the Olympic Mountains across the chest, but it seems silly now.

“Jonathan.” The eye contact is making him nervous, and without thinking he flicks his gaze to Archer’s arms, which he hasn’t gotten a good look at until now. They’re prominent in that tank top, and Shran prays to Uzaveh that he won’t have to stand up soon because his legs feel weak. Fuck. He blushes deeper, sure he must be blending into the night by now. “It’s good to see you again.” To avoid embarrassing himself further he looks at the sky.

Archer’s body heat moves closer and Shran’s antennae twitch. “I’ve never been here before. Nice little spot.” Shran swallows hard and nods, glancing back his way with a half-terrified smile.

“My neighbor’s first wife lives around here so he recommended it as a date spot. I couldn’t get her key though, which is why I thought we should come at night and, uh, yeah,” Shran babbles, barely aware of what he’s even saying.

Archer shifts even closer and grabs Shran’s hand. He’s staring right at him as he responds. “It’s got a great view.” Somehow, that’s what breaks through the buzzing anxiety plaguing him, and he bursts into furious giggles. Archer grins and pulls him to his feet. “Let’s walk.”

–

“The army?!” Archer nearly trips, he’s laughing so hard. Shran echoes him half heartedly. The topic of his family’s expectations is still one that haunts him in the back of his mind.

“My father is quite traditional. Serving in the Imperial Guard is considered an honor, though it’s less necessary since your people helped us form a treaty with the Vulcans.” Shran looks at his feet, watching the waves crash around his ankles. “I was recruited when I was six.” Memories flood back and he tightens his grip on Archer’s hand without meaning to. “It was terrible,” he mumbles. “So I quit, and I came to Earth.”

Archer strokes his hand with his thumb, and some of the tension leaves Shran’s shoulders. Neither of them speak. They stand and watch the stars dance on the water.

Shran turns his head, hoping to gauge Archer’s feelings, and feels a jolt down his spine when he realizes Archer’s been looking at him, eyes soft and shining in the moonlight. He stammers, turning to face him. “S-sorry, I guess I killed the mood.” His antennae fold over themselves in embarrassment. Archer doesn’t want to hear his life story right now.

He doesn’t reply right away, just holds his warm steady gaze level with Shran. Then he pulls him gently by the hand up the beach and sits them down. “You don’t need to apologize.” God, his kind smile steals Shran’s breath, and he chokes back a sob.

“I’ve never talked about it,” he manages, voice is deep and rough with emotion. “I’m still not sure that I can.”

“You don’t have to.” Archer pulls him close, puts a hand in his hair, and runs his thumb across the base of an antennae. Paralyzed, Shran nearly moans, physically and mentally overwhelmed.

“Jon-” he gasps. “Jonathan.”

“Yeah?” Archer looks practically smug.

“Th-that’s really nice.”

“Hoshi’s friend Ezri made me help her study for an exobiology exam last month, I learned a lot.” Ok, definitely smug.

Shran pulls himself together and shifts up into his hand, chewing his lip. To his dismay, Archer pulls it away and moves it to his cheek. He’s going to protest, but something makes him hesitate. Eyes questioning, he touches Archer’s face. Apparently that’s what he’d been waiting for. He leans in.

Shran thought he would panic the first time Archer kissed him, but a stillness overtakes him instead, like how it feels to be left mid-air when the grav-plating goes off. His eyes flutter closed and a full palette of colors swirls across his vision, the most beautiful painting he’s ever seen. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to put it on canvas.

But then again, he thinks, as Archer holds him tight, the future looks like it will have plenty of colors to offer.


	5. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archer has a confession to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter either of us have written so far. This is a pretty open ended series, so it may be continued at some point, especially if there's interest!

Shran has always been an early riser. It’s an old habit from military training that he can’t seem to shake. Though it does have advantages, and he just discovered a new one.

Jonathan had kept him out late last night after a show, insisting that he should get to know the band better. He liked Hoshi, she was smart as a whip and talked to him in his native tongue. While he’s infrequently homesick, it is great to hear a language that sounds natural again after all this time listening to long and overly flowery human words. Trip and Malcom were alright, they’d been plenty friendly, though not the kind of friends he’d choose for himself. Trip spent most of the night talking about sound engineering and Malcom seemed a little aloof. Hoshi’s girlfriend, T'Pol, had shown up a couple hours into the afterparty in a very expensive looking suit, and Shran found out she was the first Vulcan to work at a powerful law firm. She glanced at him maybe once all night, and Shran was happy to keep his distance. Andorians and Vulcans don’t get along on principal, and even if they did, she was intimidating.

By the time it wrapped up, the buses had stopped running for the night, so much to his terror he’d been forced to accept Archer’s invite to crash at his place. He doesn’t like accepting favors or gifts, even from friends or family. Debt disturbs him, makes him feel dependent and ties him to the owner of it in a way that makes him uncomfortable.

It’s hard to think about that now, though. The orange light of the sunrise beams in through the window and dances across the handsome line of Jon’s nose and the curve of his lips, a gentle smile gracing his face as he sleeps. It drives any thought Shran might have had of going back to sleep right out of his head. If there’s anyone he can tolerate being indebted to, it’s him.

His left arm is trapped under Jon’s neck from how they’d been holding each other in their sleep, so, not wanting to wake him, Shran stays put for quite some time. He’s been watching him for Uzaveh knows how long when he shifts, and mumbles something not quite loud enough for Shran to hear. The movement dislodges his messy hair and it falls across his face, so Shran brings his right hand up to brush it back. Unable to resist a sudden urge to express some of the affection overwhelming him, he runs his fingers along his cheek on the way back down. Jon’s smile slowly widens into a grin, and he opens one eye.

“Morning.”

“Good morning, Jonathan.”

He leans in and bumps their noses together. “Sleep alright?”

“Very well.” He can’t help but let his eyes slide closed. Relaxation is still a new feeling, and he tries to make the most of it when it comes along. “Thank you for letting me stay the night.”

Jon laughs low in his throat, and Shran snuggles a little closer. “You say that like I wouldn’t want you to stay forever.”

This startles Shran back to alertness. Being sent to military school so young gave him some complicated commitment issues, he’s the first to admit. It has been four months since they met, and they’ve been officially and publicly together for two of those after a very sweet date to the movies that ended with Jonathan asking him to be his boyfriend, an offer he happily accepted. Moving in with him is a step beyond that and Shran has no idea if he’s ready. “Archer,” he starts, having no idea what is about to come out of his mouth but unable to let the silence continue uninterrupted.

“'Archer?‘” Jonathan laughs again. “You haven’t called me that in a month.”

Shran nervously throws his gaze to the corner of the room. “You took me by surprise.”

“Really? I thought I’d been making my feelings pretty clear.” Still grinning playfully, Jon rolls onto his back, pulling Shran against him and pressing their lips together. They linger, neither wanting to break away, but Shran needs to talk.

“Moving in is a big step, Jonathan.”

“You are so serious.” He keeps laying soft, adoring kisses on Shran’s neck and face and Shran is quickly losing the will to debate him.

“It’s a s-” A contented sigh escapes him. “Serious topic.” Jon stops and he freezes, worried he’s made a mistake.

“Shran.” Archer’s voice is steady and self-assured, as the man always manages to be. He holds his face between his hands and locks eyes with him. The moment stretches, taught with anticipation, and Shran can’t look away. Any hope of processing the situation goes out the window, his mind blank and utterly transfixed by whatever it might be that’s about to happen. Laying a single, brief kiss on Shran’s lips, he drops the bombshell. “I love you.”

Instantly, tears spill down Shran’s cheeks, the words shattering his self-control and breaking the walls he built when he was six years old and completely alone. Not a single coherent word in any language makes it out, only a strangled noise that vaguely resembles the Andorian click meant to denote confusion. Jon squeezes him tightly to his chest and he shudders with the forceful sob that hits him, gasping for air.

Neither of them say anything for a long time. Shran cries until he can’t anymore, slumping against Archer. The heat of the emotional rush drains away into the Terran’s cold skin (he thanks the universe for that particular physiological difference, since Earth is much too hot even on normals days) and he takes a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes, there is. You’re so giving, so free with yourself, and I don’t even know what it means to feel… that way. I don’t know if I ever have before. Not since- well. Not in a long time, anyway.” He couldn’t tell Archer about him, not right now. It’s been behind those walls for four years and he’s not ready to address it himself. Some other time.

“Shran, I can’t tell you how you feel. But I can tell you that the way you treat me is enough to prove you care, and that’s all I need. The words don’t matter.”

“They matter to me,” Shran whispers. “I want to know that I- that I love you. I think I do.”

“Then I’ll keep loving you until you know for sure, one way or another.”

Jon looks at him like the rest of the galaxy has ceased to be, and Shran knows he means it.


End file.
